My Husband Never Dies - Chapter 4
Evelyn Dalebury.
Daughter of Princess Rowena, the youngest sister of the current king.
Delicate and frail, Rowena had been known to faint at the slightest shock, scream at things invisible to others, and spend her life shut away despite her royal blood.
And yet, rumors had begun circulating in recent years: that the mad princess had borne a secret daughter.
Tales without source claimed they’d once seen Rowena swollen with child, long ago. That Evelyn had been born while the princess was away from the capital on a “rest cure.”
Though her father’s identity remained a mystery and she had no claim to the throne, Evelyn was quietly acknowledged as part of the royal family.
“A princess, of all things. Unbelievable.”
Draped in silks and encrusted in dazzling jewels, Evelia — no, Evelyn — scoffed at the reflection in the mirror.
Her well-groomed, glossy blonde hair shone as beautifully as gold. She had once despised this blonde hair, never imagining it would completely turn her life around.
The man who had come to her in Zelakent was none other than the crown prince of the country. Surprisingly, hair like Evelyn’s was a symbol of legitimate royal lineage.
Even in portraits, Princess Rowena’s hair looked similar to hers.
As for her lack of manners, clearly in desperate need of correction, she decided to blame it on her nonexistent education.
‘As long as I don’t use foul language, I’ll be fine.’
In any case, now that she had assumed the identity of a princess, marrying a duke wasn’t entirely out of reach. Though honestly, she was still baffled by it all.
Wouldn’t it be easier to sneak in at night and kill him? Why go through the hassle of marriage, getting close, waiting for him to let his guard down?
Still, playing the role of a princess wasn’t so bad.
She had never experienced such luxury in her life. She’d made decent money during her more active years as an assassin, but this level of extravagance had never even crossed her mind.
Three maids helped her bathe. A tailor and designer rushed in just to fit a single dress…
Couldn’t she just live like this forever?
Evelyn found herself having an unexpectedly leisurely thought.
The prince hadn’t set a deadline for the assassination. Not that it would’ve made sense to, for how could anyone predict when a new bride would win over a duke’s heart?
He had come all the way to Zelakent and pulled her out of death row, weaving this ridiculous farce just to establish her as a princess. A bold move, surely accompanied by careful planning. Which meant she, too, had to proceed with caution.
“Lady Evelyn.”
A maid called her name politely. It wasn’t even her real name, but Evelyn still felt a twinge of discomfort. Hmm. Living like this forever might not be so easy after all. Looks like she’d better kill the duke sooner rather than later.
“The Duke of Brumfield has arrived.”
Today was the day she’d meet her betrothed for the first time. It was a significant day for Evelyn — not because he was her fiancé, of course not. But because understanding what kind of man he was would help her devise the best method to assassinate him.
“Let’s go.”
The fact that an assassin who had killed countless people was now walking freely through the royal palace was absurd to Evelyn, but she didn’t show a hint of it as she set off.
The annex once used by Princess Rowena was bustling for the first time in ages. News that the tragic princess had a daughter had come as a surprise to all, and it was thanks to the king’s compassion for his late sister’s suffering that he had arranged for none other than the Duke of Brumfield to marry her.
She had expected some resistance to the sudden command, but to her surprise, the duke readily accepted the king’s proposal. It seemed he considered her royal blood, if not in the line of succession, adequate enough to take as a wife.
There had been no information about the Duke of Brumfield, Evelyn’s soon-to-be husband, either before or after she entered Zelakent.
Even the prince, who had orchestrated this entire plan, admitted that he had never seen the duke in person. That didn’t seem plausible, and yet…
When the previous Duke of Brumfield passed away, and the title needed to be formally confirmed by the king, the current duke never even left his domain. The king and nobles of the capital hadn’t seemed to care much, and so the succession proceeded quietly.
No one had seen the duke.
With no involvement in politics or social affairs, not even a portrait of the Duke of Brumfield was in circulation. All that existed were vague rumors — that he occasionally appeared in his vast northeastern territory, rich with rare minerals, or on a few scenic southern islands he was said to own.
Naturally, Evelyn imagined someone who looked like a grease-bellied pig. Most noblemen she’d encountered while doing jobs for wealthy regional clients tended to look like that, after all.
Anyway, she had resolved, however halfheartedly, that she’d kill the pig on their wedding night. No way she was going to spend her life pressed up against someone like that.
“I’m Calix Brumfield.”
Contrary to her expectations, the Duke of Brumfield was a picture-perfect man.
